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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340264">Your Heart on My Skin</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/pseuds/AvengersNewB'>AvengersNewB</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending, If You Squint - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Tattoo Artist Steve Rogers, Tattoos, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Ty is a jerk, very light angst</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:22:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,465</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27340264</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvengersNewB/pseuds/AvengersNewB</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tattoo artist Steve refuses to give omega Tony a tattoo that might cause him a lifetime of embarrassment, despite Ty's insistence and ends up supporting Tony in putting his life back together.</p><p>Oh, and getting a chance to punch Ty? Always a bonus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Rogers/Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>718</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Your Heart on My Skin</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/BladeoftheNebula/gifts">BladeoftheNebula</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy Birthday &lt;333<br/>Thank you for being you, and sorry for the huge delay in your birthday gift.  loveee &lt;3</p><p>Ty is his usual jerk self in this fic, and although there are mentions of his abusive behaviour, the fic stays pretty light-hearted and does not explore that concept. </p><p>Thank you so much to ChocolateCapCookie and Bea for beta, and people in<a href="https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS"> Put on the Suit discord server </a>for their help with summary and tittle &lt;33</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve hates Saturday night shifts. </p><p>It’s not busy, per se, because Saturday night is better spent on many other things, including going on dates and kissing people you love, but the few people who do come in are usually harder to deal with, because, well... many different reasons.</p><p>This particular customer though is not difficult or loud, and he’s not crying in Steve’s arms while getting a ‘love yourself’ tattoo after a blind date gone horribly wrong. </p><p>The omega lying on the table, as Steve’s last customer tonight, is too quiet, if anything. Too pliant, with a beautiful wide smile, that makes something tingle at the back of Steve’s neck, and a chill go down his spine. </p><p>The alpha towering over them, on the other hand, is just too much. Steve has seen his kind so many times, the ones who think they’re just precious for being born an alpha, or that having broad shoulders and blond floppy hair makes them superior. He has even ‘designed the tattoo himself’, because he has a minor in visual arts, and can’t shut up about his degrees, his inventions, his black belt, and his parents’ mansion in Malibu, the whole time, as Steve gets his tattoo set ready. </p><p>“Are you sure?” Steve blurts out as he looks at the design and his stomach starts to feel funny, as if something bad’s about to happen. The way the guy’s been going on about his masterpiece of a design had Steve thinking that he’d be tattooing a butterfly, or a tiny moon and an even tinier star on the side of this omega’s delicate neck, but this, the scripted words with the simplest possible font... feels wrong. </p><p>The whole situation feels very, very wrong. </p><p>“Yes, I’m sure,” the alpha says, tentatively, as if he can’t believe that Steve’s asking the question. </p><p>“I was actually asking my client, sir, he’s the one getting the phrase-” Steve reads from the design sheet “-<em>Ty Stone’s Bitch</em> tattooed on his neck.” </p><p>The alpha glares at Steve and presses his lips together. Steve looks at the omega, who hasn’t made a single noise since he’s entered the room. “So, are <em>you </em>sure about this tattoo?”</p><p>The omega moves his head, slowly, and looks at Steve. He then smiles insanely wider than before and his too innocent, too out-of-it face breaks Steve’s heart a little.</p><p>“Tony?” The alpha -Ty - squeezes the omega’s shoulder. “Come on, babe, gonna make some noise here, like the chatty little bitch that you are?” </p><p>The omega - Tony - doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t move his eyes, still glued to Steve for some reason, and he doesn’t even flinch at the harsh words that begin to make Steve’s blood simmer. </p><p>Something. Is. Definitely. Wrong.</p><p>“Look, Mr. Stone; <em>Tony</em> here-” Steve emphasizes the name, just to see the tic in the corner of the alpha’s eyes, “-is in no condition to make this decision. I suggest that you hold it off for tonight, and come back some other—”</p><p>“Did you hear me asking for your suggestion?” the alpha cuts in. “I don’t want you to suggest shit here, just do what you’ve been paid to do.” </p><p>Steve takes a deep breath and puts the design sheet on the tattoo trolley. He takes his latex gloves off, one by one, and repeats to himself that punching clients is not a good idea. Not only because he needs this job, but also because he’s a human being, and one must use his words before his fists in all situations. </p><p>“Unfortunately,” he says slowly, “I can’t do this tattoo tonight. He’s not lucid enough to consent to a glass of water, let alone get something inked on his body that might make him wear turtlenecks for the rest of his life.”</p><p>Ty takes a step forward and balls his hands into fists. “He doesn’t need to,” he says from between his teeth. “He’d be proud to show off his alpha’s name where it belongs.”</p><p>Something flares deep in Steve’s core and he has to press his thumbs between his fingers to keep his hands from <em>accidentally</em> bumping into the guy’s sharp cheekbones. “First of all, you’re obviously not his alpha.” He points to Tony’s intact skin, showing through the wide neckline of his T-shirt. “And I wouldn’t give him a tattoo tonight, even if you’ve been bonded to him since 45 got elected to the office.”</p><p>Steve keeps his eyes on the alpha, who looks taller and larger now. He watches him as he opens his mouth to say something, then closes it as he throws his hands in the air. He then groans, turns away from Steve, and starts tugging on Tony’s hand. “I’ll make sure you pay for this,” he mumbles and Steve can’t quite tell who’s on the receiving end of the threat. “Up, up, let’s get the fuck outta here, now!”</p><p>Tony grumbles but doesn’t move. He looks pale and a little sweaty and Steve’s heart suddenly drops, because fuck, fuck, fuck, there is a good chance that the jerk would drag the omega’s ass to another tattoo shop, right this second. The one around the corner is open 24/7 and Andrew’s almost always stoned so he wouldn’t be able to care about any of this.</p><p>“Let go of him,” Steve says, and his voice sounds foreign to his own ears. “Can’t let you take him away like this.”</p><p>“Excuse me? What did you say?” Ty turns on his heels, still holding one of Tony’s hands, and stares at Steve. “You think you’re tough? You think you can tell me what I can or can’t do with my omega?” </p><p>Steve’s heart starts to beat fast and the anger starts to flame up from somewhere in his chest. “No. But I’m gonna call the police. What you’re doing here fits the criteria for endangering an omega, and I’m obligated to report it.”   </p><p>Ty’s eyes pop out, figuratively, and he finally lets go of Tony’s hand. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He looks at Tony, then at Steve, and his hands dart to his pockets, searching for something from the outside, and well, Steve doesn’t have to be a genius to work out the reason for his sudden frustration.  </p><p>He takes one more step toward Steve, but he doesn’t look that tall or big anymore. He’s a pathetic bully with some illegal shit in his pockets whom Steve doesn’t need to punch right this second. The big blond alpha who supposedly has a black karate belt stares at Steve for a while, hisses, and looks more like a wet ginger cat as he runs for the door.</p><p>***</p><p>“Still can’t believe, well, any of this,” Tony says, and he groans as he sits on the stool by the kitchen counter. “Is there anything comfortable in this whole place? The couch broke my back.”</p><p>“I’d say my bed, but that’s a bit inappropriate,” Steve chuckles as he sets two plates stacked with pancakes on the counter, “and also a big fat lie.” </p><p>This is not how he’d imagined the first time an omega staying at his place for breakfast would go, but he can’t lie to himself that after the initial panic of Tony waking up and some back-and-forth screaming, it feels kinda warm and fuzzy to watch Tony stop frowning as he swallows the first forkful of Steve’s signature blueberry pancakes, and the way his eyes go wide with the fork frozen in the air as he lets out a low moan of pleasure. </p><p>“At least the pancakes are good.” Tony winks, and something goes loose in Steve’s belly. “There is always a silver lining, right? I could’ve woken up with ‘Ty’s Bitch’ on my fucking neck, and I tell you this, the guy can’t cook shit if his life depends on it."</p><p>He squints and stares at Steve. "Why am I still with the jerk? Because he’s a manipulative asshole. Like, right now, I can see it, certain and clear as I can see how blue your eyes are, that he only agreed to me getting a tattoo because he figured out a way to make it about himself and resorted to the most dickish moves to get what he had planned.” He then looks down at his plate, shakes his head and starts stabbing the stack of pancakes with his fork, frowning again.</p><p>“But he takes one look at me, and I go completely bananas, it’s pathetic, no joke,” he mumbles as he keeps smashing his breakfast and Steve has to flex his fingers to keep from reaching over the table and wrapping them around Tony’s fingers. “It’s the stupid alpha scent and years of co-dependency. I end up doing whatever he asks me to do. And yet, he goes on and does-” he points to the side of his neck “-this.”</p><p>Steve rests his chin on his hands to keep them busy. “I get it. And it’s not pathetic, it’s just an unfair advantage he’s exploiting to the fullest. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Why did you bring me here, though?” Tony asks as he finally starts to eat again. “You know, why didn’t you call the police for real?”</p><p>Steve smiles and ignores the way his heart does a happy dance as he watches Tony going through his food. “I was worried you’d have something illegal on you too. I would never have called the police, it was a bluff to begin with.”</p><p>“Oh my God! You’re really something, huh? He’s twice your size and really enjoys beating alphas up.”</p><p>“I would have called Bucky,” Steve says matter-of-factly, “and he’d show up in about, well, 20 minutes to two hours depending on traffic, to save my neck.”</p><p>Tony looks at Steve with wide eyes and bursts into laughter. “And you saved my neck, literally, despite everything,” he finally says, the ring of laughter carrying on to his voice. “You didn’t have to care. You definitely did not have to drag me to your place, even if it’s only three floors above the tattoo shop.”</p><p>“I just don’t like bullies. Getting in trouble to kick bullies’ asses? I can do that all day.”</p><p>***  </p><p>Steve does his best not to think about Tony over the next week. </p><p>Or to think about other things too, and keep somewhat focused, especially when he’s putting permanent ink under the skin of his patrons, and he’s fully calm and collected when an unfamiliar number starts to blink on his phone at 11 PM, right after Steve had closed the shop for the night. His hands are <em>not</em> shaking as he taps on the green button, and he <em>doesn’t</em> almost drop the phone with the rush of dizzying protectiveness that washes him over with Tony’s broken sobs on the other side of the line. If he hangs up too quickly, and runs two blocks north before stopping to catch his breath and realizing, just then, that he has no idea where Tony actually lives, well, that’s nobody’s business.</p><p>He walks in carefully, trying his best not to step on, well, every single household item he can think of, all mixed up, scattered on every available surface, and breathes through the panic of what Tony might look like if the way his apartment is one big mess is any indication.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Tony says from somewhere, and Steve has to sweep around the living room to find him. “The place is a mess, and I am the biggest mess in human history.” </p><p>He is sitting on the kitchen counter and Steve reasons with his heart to slow down, now that he can see Tony and he doesn't seem to be hurt. “It’s okay, and please don’t say that,” he says in the most comforting voice he can muster, with the way his heart is still shaking in his chest when he finally gets to Tony’s side.“It’s okay, it’s fine, we’ll fix this.” </p><p>Tony finally stops twiddling his thumbs and looks up. He looks twice as pale as Steve remembered and Steve kicks himself for not having thought about bringing some kind of food over.</p><p>“I’m such a loser,” Tony says in a small voice, “to call you, a complete stranger I spent a night on his couch - fully clothed - to come save me from my own mess.” And he trails off, pointing around, before going back to playing with his thumbs. </p><p>Steve flexes his fingers and shoves his hands in his pockets. “That's why I gave you my number and I’m glad that you called. I’ve been meaning to check on you, but I had no idea how to.”</p><p>Tony’s face twitches into a shadow of a lopsided smile. “I had no one else to call. Can you believe it? Pepper’s in Malibu with her shiny new job and Rhodey’s deployed somewhere top secret, he calls every other week to tell me he’s alive.”</p><p>He slides down the counter and leans his hip against it. “Anyone else, you ask? Ty fucking hates everyone. ‘Don’t speak to Carol, she’s an alpha, she has a crush on you.’ ‘Why did you smile so much when we were on a fucking double date, with Jan and Hank? They’re both betas so you never know.’” He runs his hands through his hair and keeps his fingers there, pulling slightly, and Steve has to press his thighs from inside his pockets to stop himself from reaching over and stopping him.</p><p>“I was at the uni until 10 PM, helping a few of the students I’m TA’ing because they have their physics finals tomorrow, and he moved out after a week of none-stop yelling, like <em>this.</em> I’m surprised I didn’t see it coming. Or that he didn’t leave the water on or something.” He sighs and breathes a few times, before turning to Steve, and God, his face is so fucking tired. “Look, I’m sorry, I really should not have asked you to come. I think, maybe, you should go if you want to, I'll manage this, somehow, it’s not like—”</p><p>“Hey, hey, hey, breathe,” Steve says, too commanding maybe, but there is only so much of the growling dragon inside that he can keep from bursting out. “I’m not leaving, and you’re not a loser. You kicked him out, and I’d be honored to help you clean up the mess, as much as I can.”</p><p>Tony stops fidgeting. He stops moving at all, at least for a second. Something changes in the air, a hint of vanilla coming across on top of the hibiscus scent, and finally, he smiles. “You don’t have to stay. Or help. You just—”</p><p>“No, but I want to. He thinks he can bully you like this? I’d gladly wipe the floor with my good coat to prove him wrong. I <em>hate</em> bullies. I can do this all day.” </p><p>***</p><p>Steve waits three whole days before he calls Tony. Two days, twenty hours and four minutes to be precise, and he almost pulls off being cool and casual and having called to just <em>‘check on’</em> Tony. They end up talking for two hours about the most random things, like the cat Steve takes a photo of every day in front of the shop, and Tony’s annoying neighbor who sings opera at 5 AM, even if Tony keeps teasing Steve, and insisting that no one uses the telephone to communicate these days.</p><p>He can only restrain himself for slightly less than two days before he calls Tony again, and manages to make it seem very random when he asks Tony if he’s been eating at all. It’s not until about a day and 14 hours later, during a heated discussion about setting up Bucky with Tony’s childhood friend - whom he had called earlier today, after five years - that Steve finds the courage to tell Tony to sleep every now and then, and he only asks if Tony’s been doing his annual check-ups, which he has not for very long, as Steve had expected, but promises to schedule one first thing tomorrow.</p><p>Tony’s first text to Steve comes in about 10 hours. </p><p>“I went shopping and stocked the fridge with edible things, including real food. I took a photo, and the only person I wanted to show it to was you. Too weird right?”</p><p>“Only a little,” he sends back too quickly. “Now show me the photo,” he adds, in about a minute or so, and stops counting the days, hours, and minutes between his calls after that.</p><p>***</p><p>Tony shows up at the shop, late on a Saturday night a week later, after another long day of TA.</p><p>“This place is not as scary as I remember,” he says, and moves on to sit on the chair in the corner and browse through Steve’s design album. “All this your work? Wow, look at this magnificently creepy horned creature.” </p><p>Steve chuckles as he digs through the drawers to find some of the cookies he had baked on Wednesday while obsessing about dropping by at Tony’s apartment to give him some. “You should come back to my place to see my paintings,” he says without thinking, before sitting back down at the trolley to finish sterilizing the tattoo equipment. “They’re half creepy and doubly magnificent.” </p><p>“I’m sure they are.” Tony closes the album. “People put a part of their soul in their art,” he says, and smiles with his whole face as he breaks the cookie in half. </p><p>Steve’s hand freezes around the tattoo gun. “Is that a yes then?” he asks, struggling to keep his eyes firmly on his work. “To coming over to see them?” </p><p>Tony shuffles in place and Steve’s heart sinks, for however long that Tony stays quiet. </p><p>It’s too soon. He's not ready. And even if he was, why would this wonderful, funny, resilient, breathtaking omega want to do such a thing with an alpha like Steve? It’s not like he’s given up on going out with someone in his own league, now that one handsome mighty alpha has turned out to be an absolute dick.</p><p>“Are you gonna at least take me out first? I know I’ve already been to your place, but I totally want to fix the wrong impression that I’m an easy omega or something.” </p><p>Steve drops the tattoo gun and startles himself with the loud clunk. Or at least that’s what he blames his thundering heart on, in the fraction of the second it takes him to turn and face Tony, and thank God, and all the Irish saints, Tony has that cheeky sparkle in his eyes that Steve adores with his whole heart.  </p><p>He can’t help the long exhale, or the buzz of happiness that spreads from his chest to the tips of his toes and makes him jump to his feet. “There is no impression to fix, and no such thing as an easy omega,” he says as he steps forward, and watches Tony’s eyes light up, reflecting the way his own eyes must be shining right now, “and I’d love to take you out, every night, but definitely on a date, um, next Saturday?”</p><p>Tony stands up, takes a step forward, and brushes a strand of hair off Steve’s forehead. “Saturday is perfect.” </p><p>***</p><p>Steve changes his mind about the restaurant a million times. He raises the budget over and over and over again because who needs an emergency fund if what you get in exchange is Tony Stark smacking the back of your neck for choosing such a wildly pricy restaurant. </p><p>“Look, I appreciate your old-fashioned alpha thing going on, but you take a boy on a date this big to propose or something. You don’t start with it, because how are you gonna top this?” he mocks playfully as he stirs his spoon in the bowl of ridiculously expensive soup that Steve had insisted three times that he order before he’d agreed. </p><p>“I can think of many, many ways to top this date, Tony.” He swallows the ‘<em>If you’ll have me’ </em>with his bread and butter, and ignores the fact that he actually knows why his throat is suddenly so parched. </p><p>Tony drops his spoon in the soup, rather hastily, and his fingers wrap around Steve’s hand. It burns like actual fire, the mix of Tony’s soft touch, his wide, carefree grin, and his scent; sweet caramel and vanilla, finally with no hints of sour for the first time. Steve wants to kiss Tony’s fingers one by one, right this second, even if it ends with them ditching the rest of their already-paid-for meal to go to Steve’s place, which is strategically around the corner, to continue the kissing of places not appropriate to be kissed in public. </p><p>A little too giddy with the idea, Steve doesn’t notice the intrusive alpha scent for the first few seconds. He can just tell something is off, because Tony’s shoulders tense, and his smile fades away as he looks up. </p><p>“... dirty little sucker. You broke up with me for this mini alpha? Does he even have a knot?” </p><p>Steve tightens his grip around Tony’s fingers slightly and takes a deep, deep breath. He then brushes the back of Tony’s hand gently, before he turns to the unwelcome, loud jerk, who is, as expected, Ty fucking Stone. </p><p>“Ty, for God’s sake,” Tony says and rushes up to his feet. “Just leave, please, just…” he goes on, dragging his fingers out of Steve’s, and the plea in his voice breaks Steve’s heart into small pieces. </p><p>“You know I love it when you beg, babe,” Ty spits and his words stab at a vague point in Steve’s throat. “Does he know what a little begging bitch you are? Do you beg him like you begged me when I—”</p><p>Steve doesn’t hear the rest of that sentence. Watching Tony hunch over himself as if he’s being punched over and over again, he does his best to recite the reasons why he should use his words before his fists, but it’s too late; his brain has stopped functioning already, and his body is burning in rage. </p><p>He can’t tell how, or when, but the next thing he knows is that he’s straddling Ty, who’s struggling underneath him with no success, and he’s punching that smug face, left, right, left and right again. Voices call him from afar and hands pull at him but he can’t bring himself to care. The only thing he cares about is the pain creeping back into Tony’s eyes, right when he seemed to have kicked its damn shadow, and the fact that this guy, the big alpha whose only strength is his ability to abuse an omega’s love and trust, is the source of that pain from the get fucking go. </p><p>***</p><p>“He’s not gonna press charges. Matt’s talking to him right now,” Tony mutters as he sits down and inches closer to press himself against Steve’s side. Steve breathes his calming scent in and leans into his warmth, his heart still beating too fast, his breath still running too short. </p><p>“You’re bleeding,” Tony says softly, “does it hurt?”</p><p>“No, it’s okay, it’s really nothing. I can do this all day, I just—” </p><p>“Hate bullies,” Tony says as his finger slides over the line of Steve’s jaw and presses lightly on his lips. “I know. I love you.” </p><p>Butterflies flutter in Steve’s tummy and his head spins a little. It’s the light press on Steve’s lips and the fact that Tony knows that Steve’s soul is too large for his body, and that he just used the L-word when Steve’s been dying to tell him the very same thing for so long since... he can’t even remember when. It’s either and all; it’s this amazing human being, pressed firmly to Steve’s side that’s making him dizzy, making him fly. </p><p>“If you tell me where it hurts,” Tony says, low and breathy, and Steve turns to him, ignoring the stabbing pain in his back from being dragged on the floor by gigantic security people, “I might be able to kiss it better.” </p><p>This is not how he had planned for the night to go, but hey, you do your best to play whatever hand life deals, and if life has made him punch Ty Stone, instead of having fillet mignon, and spend the night on the cold steps of a closed deli instead of having dessert, then that’s what Steve’s gonna do, and that’s what he’ll try to make the most of.</p><p>He points to his strained neck, and watches Tony as he tilts his head to brush his lips against that spot. It’s chaste and gentle and it burns from the point of contact right down to Steve’s heart. He then trails up Steve’s throat, to kiss the spot Steve has pointed to on his chin, then his cheek, then his nose, all the way to his painful, possibly-bloody temple. </p><p>It’s dreamy, how Steve’s enveloped in Tony’s scent, light-headed and out of breath, when he finally points to his lips, and it kinda hurts because Tony’s kiss turns heated quickly, but it’s nice, it’s great, it’s actually incredible, how they wrap around each other, how Tony whispers things that are most probably endearing insults, how Tony’s tongue makes Steve part his lips, how they drink each other, and it tastes better, thousands of times, than any french dessert wine.</p><p>“Thank you,” Tony smiles against Steve’s lips, “for, you know, everything. Violence is not the answer and punching people in a Michelin Star restaurant is not a good idea, but fuck that. Just— thank you.” </p><p>“It was nothing,” Steve replies nonchalantly, but something bubbles in his heart and spills into his chest. “Punching bullies, and making you happy?” He peppers quick kisses on the corner of Tony’s mouth. “I can do this all day.” </p><p>***</p><p>Tony wants to do it a month after. Steve insists on waiting a year. They settle on their six-month anniversary in the end, and it has to be a late Saturday night, so the appointment ends up being five months, three weeks, and six days after that very first time.</p><p>Steve rolls the pen between his fingers before putting it on the tattoo trolley. “Are you sure?” </p><p>Tony doesn’t lift his head from the headrest of the tattoo table. He doesn’t even open his eyes. “I’d have you tattoo it on my forehead if you wouldn’t freak out. I love you. I admire your stupid guts and the fact that you’ve been beaten up in every alley in Brooklyn. I’m sure, Steve. I’m certain.”</p><p>“Here we go then,” Steve says and kisses Tony’s palm. He turns on the tattoo gun, running his fingers on the letters he’d just finished scripting on Tony's forearm, and reads out loud, <em>“I can do this all day.” </em></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for giving it a chance, and I hope you enjoyed it.<br/>Please tell me what you think, kudos and comments, including emojis, are highly appreciated!</p><p>The idea was born in another fandom server and this <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795857/chapters/65369725"> amazing fic </a> was done by NamelesslyNightlock. Neb wanted to read a stony version too, so here I am delivering as requested :)</p><p>I'm <a href="https://avengersnewb.tumblr.com/">avengersNewB</a> on Tumblr, come talk to me :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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